


Promist Desert

by Hawkflight



Series: Lunar Stone [4]
Category: Final Fantasy IX, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Nicknames, black magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each touch is brief, leaving her nearly crashing to the floor below with the rest of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promist Desert

**Author's Note:**

> For The Weird Prompt Strikes Back! [Daily Competition] prompt used: Final Fantasy
> 
> Do enjoy the oddity of this piece.

Her footsteps are nearly soundless as her bare feet connect with the stone floor, it's only the soft _thump_ of her heel that gives her away. Not that the Valia Pira minds. She isn't an intruder so it doesn't react when she stops to wrap her fingers around the stem of a candle and pulls it toward her.

There's a soft _click_ within the wall before the stone trembles, raising up to reveal a passage. Luna steps into the darkness, feeling her way slowly as not to trip and fall. He doesn't like it when she uses her magic, calls it trickery, blasphemy. That's why she keeps her wand tucked into the strap around her leg, facing the inside of her body; so it would be less noticeable. Though he knew it was there, he knew all he would need to do is take the 'twig' and snap it to rid her of nearly all her magic.

Her hand slips from stone onto metal and she steps up to feel the grate beneath her toes. She only waits a second before ascending the cold stairs, a web of metals interwoven that bring her to a large golden door. The depiction of an angel dressed in silver carved into the gold does little to calm her nerves.

It's the same dress she now wears: long and flowing down just past her ankles, a small dip in the neckline, short sleeves that just cover her shoulders. The only thing that is styled differently is her hair: parted on the side, rolling down her back in waves, a few strands loose around her face, softer than a kitten's fur.

She draws in a short breath before pushing the door open, light spilling into the dark passage as she crosses the threshold and then the door closes on it's own behind her, leaving the hidden entrance in shadows once more. Luna steps forward onto the granite floor, maneuvering herself around the bloodstone so she can walk forward to the balcony made of gold, a pillar of flame situated in the middle of it.

Just past the flames is Kuja, silver hair reflecting the flickers of red and orange; as if the strands themselves are living flame. He doesn't even turn his head when he speaks to her, "Kimi, moon girl." He raises a finger, motions for her and she steps around the flame to his side. Only then does he turn to look at her, light-blue eyes matching her gaze only to flicker to her own hair.

She feels his fingers run through the strands a second later, starting from the part in her hairline and ending with his palm resting on her cheek. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing up as she feels a shiver run down her spine. It makes her wonder why she came to the Fire Chamber when the question was presented to her on a small card next to her breakfast. Of course, it wasn't really a question; that's why she came, because it was an order.

Kuja was looking back into her eyes, even as she could feel his skin crackle with energy against her cheek. "When the moon is frozen and the sun is doused in water, the earth will shatter." There's a white pulse at the edge of her vision where his hand rests and she already feels her body going limp as her energy transfers to him.

Luna closes her eyes to hold back the tears at his words. She has learned quickly how to interpret them and out of all the things she didn't want was the destruction of this world, as alien as it is to her.

A tear must have slipped past her defenses as she feels his finger against her other cheek, brushing the offending warm liquid away from her pale skin. "You're going to be my angelic key."

" _Yes_." If she breathes, he breathes. If he continues to live the world will spin without consequence. 


End file.
